Always, Suspended
by arkem
Summary: The fallout from 47 seconds. He knows, she knows he knows. Blood and tears flow among the anger and hurt. What will happen to 'always? *SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 EPISODE 19*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is my first attempt at a fic. I'd love to do more but really lack the time so this is just something quickly thrown together. The first chapter is my take on the 47secs episode with a few extra thoughts in there in order to set up the future chapters. The following chapters are more my work - honest - so if you can stick out the first chapter long enough to make it to the others, thanks! Please let me know what you think.**

**A**

* * *

It was the first time in all the years he'd been working at the 12th that he hadn't been in the Interrogation room with Kate…well, except for that time she banned him because she thought he was 'thinking with the wrong body part', and the few other rare occasions she'd declared him 'compromised'. Castle felt like kicking himself for missing out on this latest battle of wits, especially since it was such a high profile case. He reminded himself that he was a father first and foremost and a writer/cop wannabe second and third respectively. Alexis was his priority and always would be. His little girl – ok not so little, but still his baby – had needed him and he'd have kicked himself even harder if he hadn't been there for her. Now that she was at home, safe and settled, he had returned to the Precinct to continue his 'research' and work the case of the bombing in Boylan Plaza.

He hadn't thought of it this way before – probably since every time he had been demoted to Observation he'd been all fired up and maybe even a little angry at Kate – but being behind the glass gave him a very different experience of an interrogation. In some ways, a better experience. From here, all alone in this small, dimly lit room equipped with video monitors, a desk and the odd filing cabinet, Castle had the best seat in the house. From here, he could watch Kate's every move, listen to every word, read her luscious lips. From here, he could admire her work and check her out all at the same time…and not be reprimanded for it like he would anywhere else in the Precinct…like he would anywhere else at all come to think of it. With this realisation fresh in his mind, Castle found himself a spot on the desk and made himself comfortable – these things could go on for a while after all. The cheeky grin that spread across his face morphed into a pint-sized chuckle that rebounded from the walls surrounding him but it didn't even occur to him to suppress it – the fun was only just beginning.

Through the glass that separated them, Castle watched as Kate was no longer Kate. Her gorgeous mahogany locks still tumbled over her shoulders, the shadowy sense of mystery was still in her eyes but she was no longer Kate. She was "Detective Beckett", a complete flip-switch to the Kate he knew and loved yet still her at the same time. Beckett sat down, opened the files spread in front of her.

"Robert Lopez" she began in her best Detective voice. She paused for just a brief second after the man's name – "makes 'em sweat" she'd told him once. Ah, the infamous dramatic pause. Not that he'd admit it, but Castle knew there was an element of his diva mother, Martha, in Beckett. It was all about giving an inspiring and convincing performance. His mother may have chosen to showcase her talent on stage and screen, but Beckett's finest performances came in the Interrogation room or working undercover. The realisation stunned Castle a little, men really do go after women that resemble their mother's. Then he shuddered at the thought and pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Eventually I'll find out, so why not just tell me?" Beckett's interrogation continued as Castle returned from his spontaneous analysis and back to the present moment. Her words struck a chord on his heartstrings. _"Eventually I'll find out… just tell me." _ The truth that rang within them echoed through his being. He _knew _he had to work up the courage to tell her how he felt but it was just finding the right time, that perfect moment so as not to upset the balance of their relationship, to want more than she could give, to expect more than he was worthy of... _"Darn it", _Castle scolded himself for letting his wonderings get away with him _again_. _"I will not let myself think about Beckett, I will not let myself think about Beckett"_ he repeated to himself over and over in a desperate hope that it would work.

* * *

"Would you like me to refresh your memory?" Once again, Beckett's words filled Castle's ears. He admired her persistence with her suspects, always maintaining the upper hand and control. She wasn't sitting anymore, instead standing over Bobby Lopez making her presence felt – a theatrical show of her dominance. Castle continued to look on through the glass, enjoying the play-by-play of the interrogation without having to control his glances. Let's face it, with her back to him, Castle's eyes only had one place to wander and he thanked his lucky stars that she (nor the guys) could see him visually caressing the curve of her muscular – yet still feminine – figure, her pert buttocks and womanly hips. _"I will not think of Beckett", _Castle repeated to himself once more.

"No, no that's not what I meant" protested Bobby.

"Did you or didn't you have it, it's a simple question?" Beckett knew her rebuttal had her suspect questioning his own lies and the story he was trying to spin.

"I don't know!"

"Who put you up to this, Bobby, who gave you that backpack?"

"I don't know, I don't remember!" She knew he was flustered, all she had to do was keep picking at that loose thread and the whole story would unravel before her eyes. Perched on the edge of the desk, inches from Lopez' face her incessant questioning continued.

"You don't remember? How do you not remember?"

"I was in shock, it must be one of those traumatic amnesia things"

"You don't get to use that excuse! You wanna know trauma? I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it." As she sat on the table in the Interrogation room – staring into the face of her suspect, her eyes locked tight to his – Kate Beckett's confession cut through the one-way mirror to the Observation room and plunged into Richard Castle's heart like a dagger. _All this time, you remembered…_

But it wasn't the pain of her confession he felt – it was the months of lying and deceit that reeked of betrayal. Betrayal, the force of which weighs so heavily on his once broad and sturdy shoulders forces him to his knees, now too weak from the burden of a love too strong for him to carry. The burden of her unknowing confession had Castle rooted to the spot, frozen in limbo with his gaze lingering on her soft lips – the lips that with such confidence, just uttered the words that changed everything.

Everything around him slowed down as Castle was suspended in time. He'd dreamt of this moment. The moment Kate Beckett acknowledged he loved her, that she loved him in return. But this was different. So, so different. This wasn't acknowledgement at all. It was denial. She'd known for months and she'd done everything in her power to bury it, to hide it away from the world. Something inside him clicked.

"What was I thinking?" he chided himself under muttered breath. He'd been kidding himself. Richard Castle – award winning novelist, father and now grade A fool. She did not and would not, _ever_ feel the same way as he did. The truth of it sliced at his insides a little more, continuing the destruction of the initial blow the same way a fragmented bullet tears through its victim and rips them to shreds from the inside out. Castle was finding it hard to breathe – knowing she knew, that she had _lied _to him for all this time – it was crushing. All the air was forced from his body and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The runaway train of Kate's confession was at full speed, and all he could do was sit there and watch it charge off down the tracks before derailing into the mangled mess of metal that had become his heart.

* * *

On the other side of the glass, Beckett was rounding up her interview, knowing full well she had obtained as much information as she possibly could at this point. She needed to leave Bobby alone for a while to let him think things over, but more importantly, to take the opportunity to regroup, compose herself and get her emotions in check. How could she have let her own problems come crashing down around her in an interrogation? If there was one thing that Kate Beckett prized herself on, it was the ability to become a blank book – for her cover to show no hint of the tale that lay between its covers; to become anonymous. She always told herself it was a job requirement – keep all things personal close to the chest she couldn't be played, so she would have the upper hand, always the holder of the Ace of Spades. She wasn't sure exactly when, but this protection, this self preservation – whatever _this _was – extended way beyond her duty to the NYPD. Beckett's entire life was hidden beneath a poker face. Castle had played her once or twice before – he knew first hand just how good of a guard that face could be.

* * *

It took every ounce of his strength to tear his eyes from her once beautiful face; beauty that was now distorted by the truth that had seeped through the cracks of her previously solid poker face. He turned from her in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, realising his hands were shaking ever so slightly – the result of what he had just heard. _Oh no_, she was beginning to gather up her files – a sure sign she was about to leave the suspect and walk right on out of Interrogation. He had to get out of there, and quick. Castle forced his legs into action, hastily making his way to the door of Observation. He had formulated a quick plan in his head, the same way he did when he was drafting the escape of one of his characters from a Columbian drug lord on a boat rigged with explosives. Castle thought about that for a second…at this moment, he'd rather be Jameson Rook in that very situation than risk failing his own escape right now and facing the very real inspiration for Nikki Heat in the wake of her recent revelation.

Castle reached for the brass door knob of the Observation room and pulled the door open, stepped through it and shut it to at his back. He rested his head against its wooden frame and closed his eyes, a mass of information running through his brain as he tried to make some coherent sense out of what he had just witnessed and all the possible ramifications that could result from it. Not two feet away another door opened and the clip-clop of heeled footsteps barely registered amongst the scattered debris of Castle's mind. The familiar clunk of the door trickled through to his subconscious and suddenly Rick Castle was back in the room –but he wasn't alone; so was Kate Beckett.


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn't have heard, could he? '_Who am I kidding, he's just left the Observation Room, of course he heard…. Shit.'_ Beckett's breath caught, tight in her chest. The realisation of what she'd just said fully hit home now. How could she have been so stupid? She risked a glance sideways, caught a glimpse of Castle out the corner of her right eye. A rush of cool air and the light scent of cologne flew past her in Castle's wake. _'This is it' _she thought, '_He's leaving me'_.

* * *

It took all of Castle's strength not to breakdown right there, in that moment. Making a break for the elevator, he fixed his gaze to the floor, not wanting anyone to see the hurt in his eyes or the tears building at the brims. He punched the elevator call button once, twice, three times hoping it would speed up the process. To his relief, just a few seconds later the doors slid open to the over familiar sound of that satisfying 'ding' he'd become accustomed to. He stepped inside, hit the button for the exit and leant back against the NYPD emblem, head pointed at the ceiling, eyes shut. He had to get out, had to. The doors of the elevator began to close and Castle breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator activated its descent as a single tear rolled down the side of his face and towards his ear.

* * *

His mind was full of all sorts; feelings of foolishness to grief, freedom to confusion, cherries and vanilla…wait. Cherries and vanilla? _Ahem. _Castle heard a small cough indicative of someone clearing their throat. He could've sworn the elevator was empty when he got in and…the elevator ground to a halt. He raised a solitary eyelid, peering into the space around him. His visual field was filled by none other than Katherine Beckett, finger holding the 'stop' button on the elevator control panel. He should've known. She's clever, too clever it seems in light of recent events. He hadn't heard her climb in the elevator and he'd just assumed the cherries and vanilla were in his mind as they so very often were.

Castle lowered his head, opened both eyes and just glared at the woman that once held his heart so delicately, yet had just closed her fist and squashed it so defiantly, so completely. His wounds so raw, Castle did nothing – not because he didn't want to shout and scream at her for all the hurt she'd caused, but because he was physically incapable of it. No matter what she'd done to him, he could never knowingly cause Beckett any pain. That and the fact all of his remaining energy was fuelling his efforts to dam the waterfall so close to the edge of his brilliant blue eyes. So he just stood there. In the confines of the metal box, suspended between floors five and six of the 12th Precinct, neither spoke a word. Beckett absorbed his hurt, feeling it at the depths of her very core. A look of bewilderment painted all over her face attempted to project the words her mouth could not. Finally, Beckett was the one to break the silence.

"Castle, we need to talk."

"How can we talk when I can barely look at you?"

"Please, Castle. Just hear me out." Kate pleaded with him

"I..bu-..Can't we ju-…" Castle was lost for words, a rare occurrence for a man so adept at finding the right thing to say even in the hardest moments. This caught Kate off guard, so unused to seeing the mighty Castle as a figure of vulnerability – a fortress crumbling into unrecognisable ruins.

The Detective in her reared its head and roared back into action.

"We don't have to talk about this right now," she proclaimed in her best authoritarian-Detective voice. "But we can stay here for as long as it takes. I mean, it's not as if we're going anywhere is it?" She may have sounded stern and in control, but even Beckett took a moment to consider whether she was talking about the elevator or their relationship – she was so caught up in the literary brilliance of Castle and all that he embodied that even she couldn't help but note the potential double meaning in her words and in turn, feel a little misplaced pride. Still, at least this way she didn't have to confront it directly – she could let Castle do the work, find the words and make it right again, just like he always does… _'Snap out of it.' _She told herself. '_You messed this up, you fix it for a change. You catch murderers for a living, this is a walk in the park…' _she breathed deeply, let out a long sigh as much to steady her nerves as break the painful silence that surrounded her.

Beckett stepped away from Castle – who was still standing at the rear of the elevator – and let herself slide down the wall next to the elevator doors. _'Even the playing field' _she thought. By reducing her own domineering presence, she was backing down, allowing Castle to take the power and be the driving force in whatever _this _was.

"I should've known," he muttered, "once a cop, always a cop."

"What?" disbelief and indignity washed through Kate, her eyes flickered repeatedly across his facial features, the strong line of his jaw, the brilliant blue of his eyes – all searching for clues but to no avail.

"You're treating me like one of your suspects. Think a game of 'Good Cop/Bad Cop' is gonna fix this?"

"I don't…what do you mean, Castle?"

"You come in, all authority and 'don't mess with the Detective', and when that doesn't work you switch tactics – try a round of 'Caring Kate' instead? Back off, let the perp think he's in control, take the heat away from the moment, let them run their mouth a bit, incriminate themselves…Well I'm pleading the fifth." Kate looked up at him from where she sat, fixed her gaze just below the newly developed anger lines on his forehead.

"You might not like it, but it works doesn't it? You're talking, which is a hell of a lot more than you were doing before." Her words sounded cool and collected, carefully chosen and rehearsed like she'd said them a thousand times before.

"Well I have news for you, _Detective," _the stale bitterness of the word leapt from his mouth and hit her square in the face, the rising tension in his voice painfully apparent, "I'm not a case to be closed or a suspect to lock up or a clue to find. If I was, we'd be done by now. Long finished. So if nothing else, at least do me the courtesy of talking to me like a real human being!" With that, Castle exploded, turned 180 degrees and threw his fist toward the metal wall. He pierced through the wooden NYPD emblem, its remains splintering around him as the bones of his knuckles made crushing contact with the cold steel behind, its resistance futile under his strength as it crumpled and hollowed to make way for his fist. But it wasn't the sting and searing pain in his fist that caused his relief, but rather the surge of heartbreak as it drained from his soul like the blood drops now trickling down his fingertips, away from his heart.

She knew she had tipped him over the edge. The instantaneous change in the man she knew so well, loved so dearly was unexpected and revealed a side of him Kate never knew existed – a side Beckett had trained for years to combat yet for this instance, had no desire to diffuse. The man needed to hurt, to show her his hurt the only way he could think of now that words were abandoning him. Just knowing that she was the cause of his suffering was tearing her up inside, knowing she could have prevented it…well, there are no words to describe her feelings. To give feelings words is to diminish them, depreciate their worthiness. Feelings are words of the heart, a language all of their own – a language that Kate had refused to learn. Many years ago, Kate had barricaded her heart behind unyielding stony walls to keep the echo of this unfamiliar dialect from penetrating her, from making her weak. She hadn't realised it until now, but those same walls came tumbling down the day she met Castle and the rubble she was carrying around was beginning to weigh her down.


	3. Chapter 3

Since his little outburst, a reserved hush had once again descended upon them. He was unsure when it happened, but Castle now found himself seated on the elevator floor leaning on the opposite wall to Kate. Their outstretched legs ran alongside each other, never touching – a very real representation of the parallel nature of the relationship each had been pursuing.

"Castle, just say something. Please!" Kate's voice faltered before it found its metaphorical feet and stood up to be heard. Her plea was met by a half-hearted chuckle from her counterpart. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just never thought I'd hear the day you told me I had to say more instead of less."

"Well, miracles do happen I guess." The hint of a smile passed over Kate's lips as she sought to catch his eyes, establish a connection – no such luck.

"I used to think so too." Muttered Castle, eyes fixed solidly on his bloody fist and the vast array of splinters puncturing his skin. Beckett employed another 'Detective-ism', kept silent in the hope it would urge him to continue without further prompt or questioning. Castle took his cue. "I was happy waiting for you…had this crazy idea that one day we would have a shot at a life together…what a fool." His thoughts were overflowing, pouring through his mouth with no real consideration behind them. For once in his life, Richard Castle wasn't thinking his words into a story – this material was raw, _this_ was what he truly felt and no literary-prize-winning novel could say this as well as his heart.

Detective Beckett was used to masking emotion – not letting it affect her in her duty to the city she loved – but she had let it affect Kate. Declared 'emotionally bankrupt' by former boyfriends, Kate had not only let her job come gushing into her personal life, she had let it overflow to her essence as well. Kate was becoming more and more 'Beckett' and less 'Kate' as time progressed and with the gift of hindsight, she understood where Demming and Josh and all the others had been coming from.

"That doesn't make you a fool, Castle" she responded, the compassion flowing in her voice a dreadful tune to his unaccustomed ears. The burning rise of anger and frustration began to fill him once more, unable to maintain the floodgates any longer he blurted;

"How doesn't it? All this time, you knew. _You knew_ and you never said a word; just led me around like a puppy dog on a leash. Don't tell me that doesn't make me a fool, Detective – even a blind man could see it."

"Like you're so innocent in all of this!" the words just came spilling out of her, unstoppable. What was she doing? She was supposed to be making this better, not escalating the situation with her pettiness.

"Me, wha-…what have I done?"

"You act as though this is some huge disservice, Castle. But you keep secrets too!" The tension in her voice radiated between the two of them, rebounding from the walls surrounding them.

His eyes flickered to hers, each witnessing the brutal reality of the other's pain for the first time. Confused, Castle took a moment to let her words sink in.

"I would never, _could _never lie to you, Kate."

Reading his expression with her extensive eye for detail, Beckett continued. "How about when you delved into my mother's murder when I specifically told you to leave it alone?"

"But.."

"Or the night of Montgomery's murder when you conspired with him to use me as bait? And how about the fact that even right now you're keeping something from me!" Her Detective façade was rapidly disintegrating, leaving Kate vulnerable to the elements. Raw emotion so heavily tainting her words she was sure she was on the verge of breaking down, of amounting to nothing but a puddle of tears and heartbroken wreckage.

"Wha-? Kate, what am I keeping from you?"

"You know what." The short reply was all that she could muster while maintaining some form of composure. Disdain hanging from her every syllable, she turned away from him knowing a direct visual connection would be too intense, too much to handle. She averted her gaze and bowed her head in shame – personal acknowledgment that she was shifting the blame, masking her short comings with misdemeanours of Castle's own.

Having become quite adept at policing strategies and knowledgeable on procedure, Castle maintained a poker face, gave nothing away. He let the silence do the talking. Responding to her own MO, Beckett endured the torment that was her own making. "You're steering me from my mother's case, asking for details, going behind my back…" Castle's eyes widened in surprise, his jaw hung a little slack.

"How…? You know about that?"

"Of course I know, Castle, I'm a Detective. It's my job – DETECT!"

"But…"

"Ryan told me about that case, the one that you asked him to pass you any details on the sly that might relate to my shooting or my mother's murder. You told him not to tell me Castle." Her anger was at boiling point now. Saying the words had made it real; made her feel. She scrambled to her feet, turned to face Castle, mentally searching for a way out of the turmoil that was the emotional free fall _she _had created.

"Look, Kate…"

"I've had it Castle. I can't take any more of these games. We're done. Finished. Over." She turns from him as if to leave, completely forgetting she had suspended the elevator to prevent him from escaping her – to force them to talk. How is it that now _she _was the one looking to escape? Foiled by her own plan, Kate realised she hadn't entirely thought this through. _This _is why she doesn't act on impulse. _This _is why she carefully calculates her moves, covers all bases and eventualities. _This _is why she prepares. You don't go running into a gun battle without bullets and body armour. Quick thinking only gets you so far but as Kate was just discovering, without body armour you're going to get hurt. Her personal walls crumbled piece by piece since the day she opened the cover of the first Richard Castle book she had read. They eroded that much faster the day she hauled him in for questioning from the launch of his final Derrick Storm novel. They'd turned to dust, blown away by the wind with each passing day she'd worked with him at the 12th. With her own armour of defences dissipated, Castle had been Kate's armour for so long; so long that she had taken him for granted. And now she'd lost it. She had no armour and the agony was overwhelming.

As if hearing her inaudible prayer, the elevator roared into action. Someone had clearly been alerted to its 'out of action' status and released the braking system to allow it to continue on its way. She could hear the gears turning; the intricate mechanical pieces whirr to life as her metal prison proceeded on its downward journey. '_5…4…3…only a short way to go now' _she told herself, holding her breath to keep from losing it.

_2…1… _That familiar ding was music to her ears as the doors to the elevator swept open. Without looking back, she stepped from its grasp leaving a trail of anguish and desperation in her wake.

"Katherine Beckett!" Castle was on his feet now, his usually smooth voice – not quite sounding like his own – followed her from the elevator. "How is it that you're the one that lied all this time and yet _I'm _the bad guy? How is it that you know all these things but for some reason, _you_ keep it secret. You have to share with the class to be part of it, Kate." Kate's steely faced exterior softened a little, moulded to the truth of his voice. "Walk away if you want. Walk away like you always do. You can't run from your feelings forever Kate, God knows I've tried." She turns on her heels, her eyes capture his face, savouring every inch of it. "Just know, that what I did – it wasn't for me. I did it for you. To protect you. I'm just sorry you can't see that."

Castle stepped from the elevator and made his way to where Kate was standing. He placed his undamaged hand to her face, cupped her cheek. Her eyes glistened as she fought back her tears, focusing all her energy on keeping it together in the precinct lobby.

"Castle…" she pulled away from his hand, straightened herself up and re-adopted her Detective persona in front of the many uniforms now ogling them down the hallway. "Not here, not in the Precinct." Castle followed her lead, embodied the definition of decorum.

He'd come to an unexpected fork in the long road of his life and the road less travelled had been shut down before him. He'd been willing to take the risk, jump the fence and battle on through without knowing the dangers ahead. Now, fate had chosen for him and bypassed the indefinite struggle he'd have faced had he continued down that road. Instead, Castle had now resigned himself to the alternate route – the clear path that led away from Beckett, away from the NYPD and away from a million memories.

"Love isn't a switch Detective. You can't just turn it on and off when it's convenient for you. You have to figure it out in your own time, I can't do that for you." He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "I need to go home Detective. I need time to heal, to forget – to move on. You need to listen to _your _heart, decide what it is you want; who you want to be." And with that, he placed a light kiss to her forehead, his eyes closed as he let the dreams of '_always'_ slip away from him, freeing him somewhat.

He pulled away from her and side stepped towards the exit not wanting to look at her, not believing he had the strength to execute the necessary motions to severe his ties to the NYPD if he turned around to see her one last time. With each pace he took away from Kate Beckett, Richard Castle took a step towards a new future. He looked upon it as one of his novels – the twist in the middle that altered the ending.

As he bypassed her heading for the door, a single tear leaked from Kate's eye and slipped down her face. As it dropped from her chin and onto her purple sweater leaving a dark ring, she turned and watched him walk out of her life and no doubt into the life of another. The very thought of Castle belonging to another shattered the remains of her heart and the tears just kept on rolling. Nothing could stop them. Not will power. Not professionalism. Nothing.

Richard Castle – the man of a thousand words had been silently teaching her the language of the heart, even when she wasn't prepared to listen. And now he was gone.


End file.
